Mark sat there, legs sprawled, arms open wide like he was greeting an old friend. His scarred face twisted into something that might have been a smile but looked more like a wound.
I couldn't read him. Observation was cataloging details—elevated heart rate visible in his neck pulse, dilated pupils, slight tremor in his hands—but none of it coalesced into a clear picture. Psychological Insight kept hitting static, like trying to read someone whose internal logic had completely disconnected from reality. I doubt even Mark knew what he was thinking in this very moment. Regardless, I didn't need that skill to beat him in a fight.
"It's over, Mark," I said, keeping my weapon trained on him. "You surrender. You get a trial. Due process. Hell, you could probably plead insanity at this point. But it ends here. Now. Make your final choice. Surrender or die in a fight."
